Who the Fuck is Alex Turner?

The Part With the Gin & Tonic

I stepped out of The Boulevard’s foyer into the chilling city street. I was assaulted by an icy sharp gust of wind and felt spitting specks of rain begin to hit me. I clutched at my jean jacket, which whilst having an aesthetic appeal, was terribly impractical and would not suffice as a buffer between the angry weather and my shivering body. But despite freezing my ass off as I found myself trudging down the street to the few blocks away where my car was parked, warmth radiated from my heart, branching out through my veins to my fingertips. It was a sort of electricity, like little hot sparks dancing around inside me.

Just as I reached my shitmobile, I almost missed the giant flash of lightning, but my suspicions were realised when I heard the daunting whip of thunder cracking down. I was right about those thunderstorms, I thought to myself smugly. Slinking into the driver’s seat, I found myself craving a cigarette, oddly. Mentally gearing myself for the short Uni trip, I slid a mixed Foo Fighters CD a friend at work had given me into my car’s CD player. With the familiar roar of the lead in ‘Learn to Fly” bringing a smile to my face, I started the engine.

My phone got a text, just as my windshield was attacked by a deafening onslaught of heavy rain. Noel [1]. 

You all good after the other night? Wondering if you’re keen on getting drinks again. Got something you might be interested in.

‘Something I might be interested in’? Could he have been more ambiguous? I replied.

Yeah I survived. Thanks for your help, drinks on me. What is it you’ve got Noely?

His reply came almost instantly, but not in a text. I picked up my phone as it rang, Noel’s caller ID flashing on the screen.

“Hey, what’s up blondie?”

“Arvo Nic. You on the way to Parkville?” Noel knew my Uni timetable pretty well.

“Yeah just about to leave now,” I said, lowering the volume of the music, although it was still a little difficult to hear him over the pounding of the rain.

“Have fun. Anyway, I know you’re not a massive fan per se, but I think you’ll want to come. Ange pulled out of Arctic Monkeys tonight. You know them?”

“…What?” I sat, stunned and struggling to find words to represent the array of conflicting emotions running through my mind.

“What?”

“The Arctic fucking Monkeys?” I cursed, totally bewildered.

“Yeah. What about them? What? What’s wrong? I thought you didn’t know them.” Noel said, perplexed.

“No I…it’s…it’s fucking Alex, Noel!”

“Who? Oh, that guy you were telling me about. What’s he got to do with it?” I’d only exacerbated his confusion.

“No, it’s Alex.” I said slowly, waiting for him to piece together the hints I was dropping. “Remember I told you he played in a band?”

“Yeah so wh- Oh. Nic! Holy shit, you fucking got with the guy from the Arctic Monkeys?” He uttered, replicating my own disbelief.

“Yes! Well…yeah. I didn’t know who he was, okay?”

“I don’t believe you.” He said sounding mildly impressed.

“Neither do I.”

“Well fucking done. You’re doing big things now, seducing rock stars and shit. Always knew you had it in ya.”

“Piss off.”

He laughed, a little condescendingly. “So you probably don’t need the ticket then.”